It’s so much more sad when you’re (I’m) aware of your own sadness.
I used to be a dreamer. I don’t know if I still am.
I used to dream of happy things, and now all I can see are harsh realities.
I feel that I’m just watching from the sidelines. Watching other people live my dreams. I don’t envy them. I mean: I do envy them, but the sadness (of the realization that the things they are experiencing wont happen to me) is greater than the envy, which makes me forget about being jealous.
And it’s not like I choose to be envy. I really don’t want to be envious of them. But these are dreams I’ve wanted and dreamt for so long.
So I’m left sad. Lonely, and with envy.
There are dreams that cannot be.